


deadcrush

by JenniferChecked



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Bondage, Breathplay, Choking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Female Reader, Humiliation, Knifeplay, Mild Gore, Obsession, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, Stalking, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29576430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferChecked/pseuds/JenniferChecked
Summary: You're the Ghost Face's only known survivor. That night marked you forever, and in more ways than one. The scar will forever remind you of the rookie mistake you made back in Roseville. Thrown into a new universe, you had a chance at a clean slate. No pitying stares or prying questions, just forging a bond with others trying to do the exact same thing as you: survive.Unfortunately, The Entity had a different plan. The Ghost Face hadn't forgotten you. Not by a long shot.
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Reader, Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	deadcrush

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RumiReneeClarke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumiReneeClarke/gifts).



> alexa play the one that got away by katy perry

Two. Two generators, now, have already had someone on them - you hadn’t been able to hear the _chug-chug-chug_ of the engine until you were close enough to see the bright pink of Yui’s hair as she crouched beside it, or hear Jeff humming to himself under your breath. You fucking hate the Suffocation Pit. Probably just because you’re not familiar enough with it to find generators quickly, but still: _hate_.

“You know you can work on one too, right?” Yui’s whisper-hiss had made you flinch, and you’d shaken your head _no_ with wide eyes.

Sure, you know that. But you think it’s better if everyone starts on their own. In an ideal situation - more like a dream scenario - the killer wouldn’t find any of you before you managed to get four done, and then the group could work together to finish the last generator while someone went to open the gate. Worst case, one of you gets found and manages to run the killer around for as long as possible. At least two would get done that way.

Of course, it hadn’t worked out that way in any of your trials yet. But you weren’t going to give up hope on what, by all accounts, seems like a good plan.

By the look in Yui’s eyes, though, you hope that this is the time it works. Or, at the very least, that the two of you survive. Otherwise you know you’ll be hearing about it later… maybe for days, if anyone agrees with her.

_Third time’s the charm,_ you think as you spot the darkened lights of an untouched generator. A crow screams and takes flight as you walk past, and you flinch and swear under your breath at the damn thing. So far, things have been quiet, which is fine and all - but you don’t know where the killer is, so you don’t know if they were close enough to notice that damn bird. Sometimes the killer is really attentive to that sort of thing, which is unfortunate for people like you, who are too pumped full of adrenaline to remember to walk quietly.

You can’t waste time waiting to find out if you’ve given yourself away, though. If the killer wants to lay low in the beginning, you need to get as much done as you can before you get chased, in the best case scenario, and your hands shake for the rest of the trial, or, in the worst case, you get caught. You keep your head cocked, one ear to the sky as you get to work. Sparks fly, wires burning the pads of your fingers, but it’s better than the alternative: a hook through the chest, or, even worse, death by the killer’s hand, however they see fit. It hasn’t happened to you yet, but you’ve heard horror stories from the others around the campfire.

A stick crunches underfoot somewhere behind you. You pause, eyes drifting down as you focus, but it must have been one of the others. There’s no telltale rush of adrenaline, no deafening thud-thud as your heart hammers out of your chest.

And, after another moment, no one grabs you. No crows cry, and you don’t hear another footstep. It’s not totally insane to think you’re fine to continue.

Unfortunately for you, you’re wrong.

“You always were a hard worker, rookie.”

It’s a voice you never thought you’d hear again. One you _hoped_ you’d never hear again, to be frank. The sound sends a cold chill down your spine, your mouth instantly going dry. You freeze up, and the generator blows in your face. He’d probably timed it that way, you think. Asshole. 

But it can’t be him. Seven billion people in the world, and what… fifty in this hellhole of a realm? In the few weeks you’ve been here, you have yet to come across someone, survivor or killer, that you’d seen in the real world, but this time you find _him_ , of all people? It’s not possible. You’d heard that voice enough times in your nightmares that you know you’d never forget it, yet you refuse to believe it could be true. There’s no way.

“Never were much of a talker, either, were you, angel?”

You drop your hands from the generator, unwilling to let it blow up on you again and unable to work on it now that you’ve squeezed your eyes shut. You sit back on your heels, hands balled into fists and sitting on your thighs. This can’t be happening, you tell yourself - this is some sort of waking nightmare. It’s the stress, making your mind play tricks on you. 

The more you try to reason with yourself, the less you believe it. You hear leaves and loose dirt crunching underfoot, and it makes a cold pit of dread open up in the bottom of your stomach. If you weren’t so fucking cold in your tank top, you’re sure you’d be sweating. Instead, goosebumps raise up your arms and legs.

“I wasn’t sure it was you at first, you know.” The voice is closer now, and you shake your head as though you could shake him loose - shake the voice right out of your skull like it was nothing more than water trapped in your ear. This earns you a chuckle, and god, you _know_ you’re not imagining that laugh; a wave of nausea hits you as it dredges up old memories, transports you back to that terrible night. The voice you could believe was attached to someone else, maybe. But that laugh means you haven’t just woken up in some strange new world… it means you’ve died and gone to hell. “I watched you around the campfire, tried to get a good look. Couldn’t believe my eyes. Wasn’t sure until I saw that scar.”

The moment he mentions it, it starts to burn in ways it hasn’t since the night you’d gotten it. Gotten it from _him._ You reach up to clap a hand over it, that thick, raised pink gash on the back of your shoulder, suddenly feeling very exposed. He laughs again, and you flinch.

“Nothing to be shy about, sweetheart!” The way he speaks is so casual - that’s something you’d forgotten. No matter what he was doing, he always sounded like he was just palling around, like it could be paired with a playful punch on the shoulder or a nudge of his elbow. “Actually, I kind of like it. Something secret shared between the two of us, you know? It’s so… _personal_.”

Silence drags out, heavy and oppressive. Between the sound of the generator in front of you and the steady-but-rapid beating of your own heart, you can barely hear him, but you think you prefer it that way.

You know he’s going to kill you. That’s the whole point - it’s why you’re here. You just want it over with.

“Cat got your tongue?” He’s even closer, and his voice makes you jump when you speak. He’s close enough now that he could do anything, if he wanted. Close enough that you can smell his cologne, cheap and reeking of either middle school confidence or frat boy desperation. A big part of you prays that he just slits your throat already so you can get the fuck out of here. Anything - and you mean _anything_ , even the fucking Pig with her reverse bear traps - would be better than this. A shiver trails down your spine when you feel his fingers run through the end of your ponytail, tugging just enough for you to feel it. “Your hair’s longer.” He sounds distracted, thoughtful, and is quiet for another moment before he gives another gentle pull before flicking your hair over your shoulder. “Gotta say, I miss the braid.”

He pauses, like he’s waiting for a response. When you don’t give him one, he tries again: “Don’t really miss the rest of the uniform, though. This is… well, not what I would have picked for you, but it’s definitely better.” There’s something about his tone that makes you feel exposed, even though you’ve worn these denim shorts to the grocery store in the past. 

A generator pops across the map, and you wait for him to leave. If he was smart, he would - a second generator pops a second later. But then you hear the slow crunching of his boots on the ground, deliberately noisy as he takes a few steps back. Not enough to signal he’s leaving, just enough for some distance.

“Y’know, I’ve been pretty nice to you right now, all things considered. Least you could do is turn around and look at me, right?” There’s an edge creeping into his voice, one that makes your stomach drop. Another generator. If luck was on your side, maybe one of them would run past and distract him, make him remember where you are and what’s going on - but you’re not lucky. Never have been, really, and certainly not in this world. “Hel- _lo_? Earth to rookie? You go deaf or something while we were apart?”

“Fuck you.”

Your eyes shoot open, shocked to recognize the voice that said that as your own. He’d forced it out of you, you reason - all that anger, after what’d happened, that you’d never gotten to voice. It had died when you realized you’d never see him again, and here, hearing his voice, it’d been reborn.

It was also really fucking stupid, but whatever. You’re gonna die anyway, right?

You brace yourself for the blow, but instead, he starts _laughing_. Bursting out, breathless laughing, the kind that makes a person’s ribs hurt. You can imagine him bent over at the waist, bracing against his knee (and if you were to look, you’d be right, but you don’t).

“That’s good,” he says finally, like he’s giving a joke a stamp of approval. His lighthearted tone drops for his next three words: “Now stand up.”

Here it is. About fucking time, you think, using the top of the generator to pull yourself up. Your entire body is braced for impact, ready to get this over with.

“There’s a good girl.” You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic, if he’s angry or pleased. “Turn around.”

If there’s one thing you absolutely don’t want, it’s to see him. You only just recently stopped having nightmares about that fucking mask. Maybe that’s why the spider god or demon or whatever it was decided to throw the two of you together now.

“ _Roooooo_ -kie,” he rasps out in a sing-song tone. “I’m starting to lose my patience.” 

Maybe it’s not a good idea to piss him off, but it’s not like getting on his good side will change the outcome for you. Gotta look out for yourself and all that.

But then the next thing he says is your name, and he says it in a way that lets you know his patience is now lost, and for some reason… you can’t ignore it. You swallow thickly, then turn around on unsteady legs. Half defensively, half because of the night chill, you cross your arms over your chest.

With your eyes cast down, all you can see are the boots at first - black leather, laced up, with a few dark splotches here and there that you know must be blood. Same black jeans. Black robes, a little more torn and bloodied than you remember, same belt and gloves. Same knife, glinting in the moonlight. You force your eyes to continue their journey up and there it is: that fucking mask, tilted comically to the side before he raises his arms, as if to say _what do you think?_

“Did you miss me?”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you thank you thank you to rumi for for being a fantastic beta!!! she's great and genuinely made this so much better. this is my first reader fic and i'm wildly nervous for some reason!!!!!! anyway mark me down as scared and horny. if you wanna chat with me check me out on [twitter](https://twitter.com/jenchecked)!
> 
> if this is the first time you've read anything by me, nice to meet ya, i'm jennifer and i am heavily reliant on italics. i know no other way to be. sry.


End file.
